


Their Tragic Sense of Life

by AreYouSittingComfortably



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Addiction, Backstory, Bajorans, Edos, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluid Sexuality, Friendship, La Sirena, Multi, New Planets, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22948525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreYouSittingComfortably/pseuds/AreYouSittingComfortably
Summary: The story of how Cristóbal Rios and Raffi Musiker find each other at a dark time in their lives, how Cris ends up Captain of a stolen ship, how his holo-crew end up with his face, how Raffi sobers up (a bit), and most importantly, how their friendship evolves. Misery loves company. Featuring Raffi and Rios drinking, snarking, and looking out for each other, from first meeting to when Admiral Picard shows up to find a grumpy Captain with a mermaid tattoo and hunk of tritanium in his shoulder.
Relationships: Raffi Musiker & Cristóbal Rios
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a Trekkie. I enjoyed the original show as a kid, and watched most of Next Generation when it first aired, but haven't really followed it since. It probably shows. It is a very complex universe to return to after being away so long! I've done my best to do some research but don't have Raffi's mad skills. I've probably made some navigational errors: Ríos kept deactivating the ENH, which didn't help. I write for the characters and actors that I love. I'm a long term fan of Santiago Cabrera, and therefore Captain Ríos, and am loving Michelle Hurd's Raffi Musiker. I need more of their relationship, so I'm writing the backstory of their friendship. Please excuse any drift away from the established Trek universe. So far (as of Episode 6) everything I've written seems to tie in well with canon, but I can't promise that will continue in future chapters! Please be nice! Thank you.

They met in a bar.

Which was not remotely surprising.

Raffi had hit rock bottom some while back, and stayed there. Just enough credits to keep a roof over her head, a glass in her hand, and enough chemicals in her bloodstream to block out everything she didn’t want to think about. Food? Well, that was optional.

Ríos had only just gotten there. The shock, the anger, the disbelief had been slowly rising and working their way up his throat to choke him and had finally taken a firm hold. His reputation, his career as an officer, his whole damn ship erased from Starfleet’s records overnight. One of the finest pilots and the youngest XO in decades. He’d never put a foot wrong, until...

And now?

Now he was nothing, no one. He downed his Pisco Sour and asked the bar tender for another.

“Wait your turn, sugar.” growled the woman slumped on the stool next to where he leant on the bar. A tall, frizzy-haired woman of approximately his own age, or slightly older, who might have been an attractive prospect if she wasn’t looking distinctly worse for wear or Ríos was remotely interested in company.

It wasn’t clear if she meant it as warning or an opener.

He waited patiently for the bar-tender to finish serving her.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue, honey?”

He looked at her sideways, not wanting to engage, but couldn’t help noticing how she sat up a little straighter under his gaze. Like she used to be someone. Like she still cared what people thought of her.

The bar-tender returned with his drink and before he could offer his credit, she told the man to put it on her tab.

“Sit,” she suggested.

“No thanks,” he replied evenly, “I’m not in the mood for company.”

“Sit.” more forcefully this time, unexpectedly snatching the stool beside him with her foot and pulling it sharply towards him.

Ríos frowned.

“Please". It was impossible not to catch the snatch of fierce desperation in her voice. She looked him straight in the eyes. “Misery loves company.” she declared with a little flourish of her hand.

His didn’t, but he sat, anyway.

It’s what his mother used to say, desperate to keep him close after his father’s death.

And so began the friendship of Cristóbal Ríos and Raffi Musiker.


	2. Chapter 2

They ended up at the same bar most evenings as if by arrangement. 

Raffi had usually been there a while before Ríos showed up. She didn’t ask where he’d been doing all day, and he didn’t offer it.

Sometimes they just sat and drank in silence. 

Sometimes they talked a little. 

Some nights, if Raffi was high, they danced

Raffi was a force of nature on the dancefloor. When she really got going, people got the hell out of her way and gave her the floor. Ríos just grooved along nearby, a little awkwardly, ready to catch her when she inevitably lost her footing. She could be a mean and angry drunk, but her bark was worse than her bite.

Raffi thought Ríos could stand to loosen up a bit, but he mostly kept up with her, which was something. When she was with him, other men stayed away, and she didn’t have to fight them off or deal with their questions – unless she wanted to. He was handsome and fit, and looked strong enough to provide an effective deterrent. He could have had almost any woman in the bar, and a fair few of the men too, she thought, but seemed equally uninterested. Ríos wanted to be alone, but not alone. Like her.

So, they drank, and kept each other company.

Keeping everyone else away.

Bonding over their shared anger at Starfleet, at being cast adrift from their lives.

That much came out quickly. They recognised it in each other right away. They shared a little, but the deeper stuff went unspoken. They respected each other’s boundaries.

They drank to push away the images in their heads they didn’t want to deal with.

Drank to drowning her self-loathing, his tragic sense of life.

* * *

Cris tired of drowning himself every night before she did. She never really did. He wasn’t proud of it. He wanted this to be a phase he moved on from. He wanted to find his way back. He didn’t know to what, but he needed there to be more than this.

Raffi really didn’t give a damn. She’d already tried everything else, and nothing had worked. She had nowhere else to be. She could see that Ríos was tiring of it, but he kept showing up, and she was grateful for that. Sooner or later, though, he wouldn’t.

Rather than slow down, she sped up, hitting the pills again, chasing that chemical high.

* * *

And then it happened.

Ríos showed up one night, too sober and miserable to keep playing the game. After a half-hearted attempt to down a few drinks, he gave up.

“I can’t keep doing this, Raffi. I need a decent meal and a good night’s sleep.”

“Fuck you, then!”

“Come with me,” he suggested, unphased by her immediate impulse to attack, “We can get some dinner….”

“Fuck. Off.” more forcefully, this time.

“ _Está bien_ ” he sighed, turning away.

“That’s it?” she responded, furious at his calmness, not wanting him to go without a fight at least, “That’s all you’ve got for me?”

He spun round to face her again. “What do you want from me? I don’t wanna do this forever.”

“You, you, you.” She mocked, “What about me? What about what I want?”

“What _do_ you want, Raffi? Other than your next hit? _Porque, sea lo que sea_ , you don’t seem to be getting it from hanging around _con migo_. I am not the reason… _por eso!_ ” his mother tongue slipping through as it often did under stress.

Raffi really laid into him then, the paranoia from her evaporating high kicking in. A little rage, a little panic. A lot of yelling. Raffi getting left high and dry, again, while half the bar looked on, amused, pitying.

He shrugged tiredly, “I’m leaving. Come with me or no. I can’t do this tonight.” 

That might have been the end of their friendship.

If…


	3. Chapter 3

That might have been the end of their friendship.

If Ríos hadn’t been sober.

If the Breen hadn’t chosen that night to hunt down a Ferengi trader who’d cheated them, who happened to be in the same bar.

If the Ferenghi trader they were searching for hadn’t turned to look at the crazy woman with the mop of curly hair yelling curses at the strangely calm man, spotted his pursuers and pulled out his phaser.

Things turned ugly very quickly. Shots were fired. People scattered.

Ríos pulled Raffi down to the ground. She was too high, and angry with him to immediately register what was going on. It all happened so fast.

He couldn’t leave Raffi in this shitshow. Not when she wasn’t thinking straight or capable of looking out for herself. Never leave a man behind. His father had drummed it into him long before Starfleet got a hold of Cris.

He struggled to keep her down on the floor and shut her up, waiting for the fugitive to make a run for it, his attackers hot on his heels.

In the chaos, the Ferengi dropped something and it span across the floor to where Raffi and Ríos hunkered down beside the bar. Ríos grabbed it without thinking. It was a transporter.

Later, he didn’t know what the hell had possessed him to take such a risk, but in that moment, just wanting to get himself, and a dangerously tripping Raffi out of there, he activated it. And whoever was on standby at the controls on the other end, responded.

* * *

The ship they found themselves on was a small cargo cruiser, and as luck would have it, appeared to be manned only by a crew of Emergency Holograms.

Ríos didn’t wait for an invitation. He’d never flown one of these things before but had trained on every imaginable simulator. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was fly.

So, he didn’t hesitate, and before anyone else had a chance to beam on board, he’d raised the shields and pushed them into warp speed.

All he needed to do was stay one step ahead of the ship’s rightful owner and the Breen pursuing him, sober Raffi up, and find a way to deactivate those fucking Emergency Holograms that wouldn’t shut up about him stealing the ship.

* * *

Cris headed for an outpost on the very edge of Federation space, the kind of place where regulations were more of a guideline than a rule. Someone owed him a favour there and wouldn’t ask questions about him wanting to strip the ship of its former identity for what remained of his credits and the promise of a favour owed. “What do you wanna call this thing?” they asked.

If I’m going to drown in alcohol and misery and end up in prison for theft, he reasoned, I may as well drown at the hands of a mermaid.

And so it was that Cristóbal Ríos found himself the Captain of _La Sirena_.

The effort of erasing every shred of _La Sirena_ ’s former identity and ownership turned out to be both costly and unnecessary, because her owner had long since been snuffed out of existence, and his pursuers had their bounty, but it was many anxious, paranoid months before Raffi was able to confirm whether they were still on anyone’s radar, and Ríos finally learned that they weren’t. 

Task number two for Raffi, after sobering up, was to sort out the Emergency Holograms that had been driving them both mad. As messed up and paranoid as they both were, the EMH kept popping up at annoyingly frequent intervals. She managed to fix the coding to override their protocols so that they could easily be deactivated, task unaccomplished.

Unfortunately for Ríos, letting her do that turned out to be a much bigger mistake than stealing the cruiser.

 _La bruja_ skinned every damn one of them as a version of him, but with different (and frankly fucking irritating) personality quirks and accents! When he confronted her about it, the first time she saw him really angry, she shrugged and told him that his was the only body available to holoscan (which raised a whole lot of other questions that she wouldn’t answer), and he could always get them reskinned later.

 _Mentirosa_.

He’d tried on multiple occasions, but she’d slipped a bug into the code that prevented it, and with official channels closed, and limited credits available, he couldn’t afford to start from scratch and have all their coding upgraded. _Maldito sea_ , he actually needed them.

The truth was that Raffi had been pretty damn mad with him for disposing of the last of her drugs and forcing her into withdrawal, and they both knew it. She hadn’t realised quite how badly being forced to interact with different versions of himself would piss him off – or how much she’d enjoy it – but if she was honest... 

Watching them push his buttons and seeing him lose his cool and descend into a torrent of Spanish curses, was fine entertainment for Raffi.

Cristóbal Ríos, however, was _not_ amused.

That might have been the end of their friendship.

But…


	4. Chapter 4

That might have been the end of their friendship.

But, the truth was that they were both adrift with nowhere else to be, questioning everything they’d ever known. They needed the security net the other provided more than either cared to admit. His tendency to wallow in misery, and hers to get lost in rage and addiction were, for the most part, comfortable bedfellows. Without the sex.

There were many reasons they never went there.

Chief among them was that Raffi had fucked up her marriage so royally she had no intention of sleeping with someone she actually cared about. She’d had her fair share of meaningless encounters since her marriage fell apart, and that was the way she preferred to keep it.

The first night they met that was _exactly_ what was on her mind. His handsome face, his thick dark hair, the broody philosophical air with just enough of an edge beneath it to make him interesting… yeah, she could have gone there. But, it turned out that what she really wanted, really needed, was someone as burned as she was, to just _be_ with. No questions, no commitment, just acceptance. Someone to exist with.

Ríos had his own reasons. Which, true to form, he kept to himself.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it.

Raffi on the dancefloor, her hair escaping from any attempt to tame it, grooving and grinning and getting lost in music, was intoxicating. Equal parts beguiling and intimidating. It was hard to look away. More than once he’d had to slip away to the men’s room to take care of himself. But, Cristóbal Ríos had made one serious mistake in his life, and he wasn’t going to let himself get romantically entangled with anyone again.

So, they kept each other company, as comrades, until any initial attraction had long since passed.

With a ship to pilot, Ríos began to feel a sense of purpose. The obvious thing to do was to find cargo to move.

That’s where Raffi came in. With her skill in research and coding, she was able to find clients who needed to move things through unofficial channels – like a non-Federation freighter. Around the edges of the Federation and beyond, there was a surprising amount of black market trade and credits exchanged. Not enough to get rich on, particularly when you were trying to steer clear of the dealing with the Ferengi, but enough to get by.

Ríos handled the flying and logistics, and Raffi was the ‘facer who handled research and negotiation. They made a good team. Raffi made no claim on _La Sirena_. That had been all Cris’s doing, his risk, his reward. But they split the profits of their trade 50/50. 

* * *

A year had passed since they’d fled Earth in the stolen ship.

In that time, Raffi had mostly stayed off the drugs, and on the few occasions that she didn’t, Ríos said nothing, knowing that she’d come down before too long. They flew together, drank together, played cards and soccer, planned cargo jobs, and when they happened to be on a planet with compatible life forms and alcohol, Raffi would hook up for a night or two, and Ríos would have the ship to himself.

Returning slightly drunk in the early hours of one morning, she found him sitting in the pilot’s chair reading a hefty volume of German poetry.

“What is it with you?” she demanded, slightly more aggressively than she’d intended, “Why don’t you ever go out and have fun? Meet some women. Or men. Or… whatever your thing is. This moody existential thing isn’t healthy.”

The EMH popped into being, all brisk concern. “That’s what we keep telling him, Ms. Musiker. It’s not…”

“Deactivate EMH” snapped Ríos, before turning to Raffi with a raised eyebrow “Pot, calling kettle…”

“Yeah, yeah, deflect, why don’t you. You didn’t answer my question. Who – or what – is your type?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Cris ignored her and turned back to his book.

“Uh uh, no you don’t. Raffi wants an answer. Why are you sitting alone reading at 3am when you could be out having fun?” She took the book out of his hands and put it down on the console. Ríos said nothing but glared at her.

“Replicator _: Cachaça, por favor._ _”_ A bottle of the spirit appeared in Raffi’s hand.

“Raffi, let me be. I’m not in the mood for drinking games.”

“No? Okay then, so, here’s how this is gonna play out. Raffi’s gonna ask you a question, and you’re going to answer, or Raffi’s going to drink.” she challenged.

“Knock yourself out.” he muttered, simultaneously annoyed at her insistence and vaguely amused by it.

“First question. Does Cristóbal Ríos prefer men or women?”

No answer. No change in expression.

“Okay then.” She took a long swig.

“Second question. Does Cristóbal Ríos prefer to stay home and play with his holos?

He made a face at that, but didn’t answer, so she took another swig.

“Officers or regular crew?” A slight raise of the eyebrow. Swig.

“Humans or Vulcans?”

“Seriously?”

“Answer the question.”

“No.” trying not to laugh. Raffi took another swig.

“Is Cristóbal Ríos in love with himself?”

He rolled his eyes at that one.

“No,” Raffi said slowly, “no, I already know the answer to that one. Cristóbal Ríos doesn’t even _like_ himself.” She declared triumphantly, congratulating herself with another swig.

“Fuck’s sake, Raffi!” Cris growled, snatching the bottle out of her hand. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”

“Not _that_ drunk.” she leaned back against the console and dropped the teasing tone. “I’m right though, aren’t I? You don’t like yourself. Why is that, Cris?”

She rarely used his preferred name. “What makes you think that?”

“Because you clearly like people, I mean, hell, you even like me.”

“Do I?” he challenged, but without any venom.

“Yeah, you do. You like most people, but you avoid them. You were unfailingly polite to every bartender and patron at every bar we ever went to. You’re nice to everyone. But, you leave all the negotiating to me, and barely ever leave this ship. I’ve never even heard you raise your voice at anyone but the holos, which are basically just versions of you. So, if it’s not that you don’t like other people, but still avoid them, it must be that you don’t like, or maybe don’t trust, yourself.”

She stuck her hand out, challenging Ríos to say something or give her back the bottle.

“Maybe I don’t.”

“Why?” Raffi looked at him, genuinely curious. “I like you, and I can barely stand most people.”

“Raffi…” he sighed, at a loss.

She grabbed the bottle out of his hand and took a big swig. “Talk to me or I will down the rest of this bottle in one.”

“ _Cabrona_.” he swore softly, shaking his head, holding out his hand for the bottle and taking a swig himself “ _Tabien_. First Officer Cristóbal Ríos of the _USS ibn Majid_ made a very very big mistake. One he can’t forgive himself for. That he doesn’t _deserve_ to be forgiven for. There. Happy?”

Raffi waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“That’s it? Everybody makes mistakes, Cris.”

“Not mistakes that cost lives.” he stated flatly.

Raffi was silent a moment. “Are you saying that you killed people? Deliberately? When you weren’t under attack?”

He didn’t answer.

“What then? What did you do that you can’t forgive yourself for?”

“I trusted someone I was romantically involved with, and as a result of that, people I loved died.”

Raffi frowned. Either Ríos was being deliberately obtuse, or she was a little more drunk than she thought she was, possibly both, because he wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. 

She was about to ask a heap more questions, but the look on his face stopped her. He looked anguished in a way she hadn’t seen before, leaning forward, gripping the edge of the chair like he was about to be physically sick or was trying to stop himself punching something. Possibly himself.

“Okay,” she said gently. “Okay. I’m gonna let you off the hook this time. But, one day, you’re going to confess everything to Sister Raffaella, and let her absolve you. I don’t know what happened on the _ibn Majid_ , but I know that underneath all your misery, you’re a good man, Cris. Go to bed, get a good night’s sleep.”

He shook his head, helplessly. “I can’t.” he admitted.

She realised with astonishment that he was crying silently.

“Hey,” she reached out to him awkwardly, standing with her arms around him as he sobbed against her stomach.

* * *

She did take him to bed that night, but only to hold him.

He slept fitfully, and in the morning they were both exhausted.

They never spoke of it again, but something shifted between them after that. There was an ease between them. It levelled the playing field a bit.

Ríos had arguably saved her life by getting her out of the destructive spiral she’d been in, looking out for her when she wasn’t looking out for herself. And it had made Raffi uncomfortable having the scales tipped so far in his favour. Now she had a chance to return it and get things on a more equal footing. She figured she still owed him, big time, but at least it wasn’t all one way traffic.

She didn’t ask him about what happened on the _USS ibn Majid again_ , but she looked it up. At least, she tried to.

But, there was absolutely no trace the ship had ever existed. And no record of a First Officer Cristóbal Ríos either. She hacked into his training records, his medicals, his early career, everything exemplary, until the records simply stopped.

She sought out his personal comms, and there was a normal amount of traffic up until 4 or 5 years ago, a few girlfriends, or could Jo have been a man? and then it mysteriously dried up. A few bland communications here and there. But in all that time, nothing whatsoever about his location, career, or colleagues, as though absolutely everything to do with the ship and its crew had been surgically removed and wiped clean.

She’d never seen – or more accurately, not seen – anything like it before. If it had been anyone else, she would have questioned if they were lying, but this was Ríos, and she trusted him completely. Besides, she had her own reasons not to trust Starfleet. If the man said he’d served as XO on the _ibn Majid_ , he had.

It was easier to work out why he was in the habit of staying up all night and disappearing for hours at a time during the day, which he’d been doing even when they were hanging out in the bar. He slept during the day, fully dressed, a phaser beside him on the bed, with all the lights on. The holos let it slip when she expressed concern about him. The EMH or the ENH, she found it hard to distinguish between their clothing and accents. In retrospect, she probably should have been a bit more careful and a bit less spiteful with reskinning them.

Despite the way he treated them, they seemed to be fiercely loyal to their Captain, and concerned about his welfare, though that was likely just their programming.

“Aha!” thought Raffi, in a sudden moment of clarity, “ _That’s_ why he doesn’t like them. He doesn’t know if they’re being genuine or just programmed to look out for him.” The only one he seemed to like was the one who clearly didn’t give a shit.

In any case, it was obvious to both Raffi and the EMH, who’d been trying with no avail to get the Captain to take sleeping pills and drink less, that whatever had happened to First Officer Cristóbal Ríos of the _ibn Majid_ , was likely the cause of his sleeping disorder and nightmares.

And so, the friendship of Raffaella Musiker and Cristóbal Ríos deepened.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next couple of years, Raffi and Rios continue to haul freight on _La Sirena_. The weakening of the Federation that had been evident since the Romulan crisis, opened up plenty of opportunities for trade.

While confident they weren’t being pursued and that the _La Sirena_ was, for all intents and purposes, a cargo freighter properly registered to Cristóbal Rios, they nevertheless played it safe and stuck to smaller jobs and continued to avoid the Breen and Feringi. Even Emmet, as Raffi had dubbed the Emergency Tactical & Security Hologram, was in agreement on that score. At least, she assumed he was. Her rudimentary Spanish struggled with his dialect.

“Chilean Spanish,” explained Rios, “it’s like… 60% slang. No-one understands us.”

“Is that where you grew up?” she asked, innocently.

Ríos looked at her shrewdly, “You’re not seriously trying to claim you didn’t look that up?”

Raffi grinned. He knew her too well. “I still can’t believe your parents were farmers. How does a boy growing up on a South American farm end up at the Starfleet Academy?”

Ríos shrugged, “Same way anyone does, I guess. We weren’t far from the Cerro Tololo Observatory, so a lot of us kids were interested. We used to go over there for the Starkids program in the school holidays. I showed an interest in the Academy, got tested, showed aptitude.” He paused, turning nostalgic. “The sky at night down there... so beautiful Raffi. The stars, they just seemed so close. So endlessly fascinating, so… romantic. I couldn’t help being drawn to them.”

“Like Vasquez Rocks.” she nodded. “We used to go out there and camp under the stars. The heat rising off the ground made them twinkle, like magic.” She closed her eyes, remembering the hot sun on her skin, the shimmer of heat haze. Life had been so simple back then, before Starfleet and JL and the Romulan refugee crisis. And the broken marriage and abandoned son.

“You ever think about going back?”

She hadn’t been thinking about it, but now that it was out there… “I dunno, maybe.” She narrowed her eyes, in mock suspicion, “Why, you trying to get rid of me?”

“Every damn day!” Cris teased.

“You?”

He shook his head. “No, after Papi died, it wasn’t the same. When I left for the Academy, Mamá gave up the farm and moved into town. Now she’s gone I don’t know anyone there anymore. No, this,” he gestured to the ship, “is home now. And _mi astronave es tu astronave_.”

Raffi smiled. “ _Gracias, hermano._ ”

* * *

The next job took them to Eutopos, a small planet just outside Federation airspace, but close enough to not be too isolated or too vulnerable. A planet with a reputation for its ‘anything goes’ vibe. A place of outcasts and misfits, but of the peaceable rather than dangerous kind. A place the hippies of 1960s Earth would have recognised and instantly felt at home on. Raffi took to the place immediately. The cargo wasn’t ready, so they had several days to chill out, and she decided it was high time to get Rios off his ship.

They found a bar and started drinking. Not hard, just enough to get a buzz going. Raffi had a plan.

“So, you never did answer my question about who – or what – your type is.” she ventured.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Look around, other there seven o’clock – ever seen a Vulcan with red hair before? She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? And she’s been checking you out since we arrived. You like her?”

“No.” without even glancing.

“You didn’t even look!”

“I noticed her when we came in. And no, I haven’t seen a Vulcan with red hair before.”

“Okay, okay, what about him? The black guy with the crew cut and one hell of a sexy smile. HE can’t take his eyes off you. More’s the pity, I’d…”

Cris cut her off “Raffi!”

“Okay, but he _is_ hot, right?”

“Sure.” Rios shrugged, non-committally.

“So, you _do_ like men.”

“Like? Yes. Prefer? No.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“You want to know if I’m sexually attracted to men or women, because digging through my personal comms history didn’t provide a definitive answer?” his tone was more teasing than angry, but Raffi had the decency to look mildly apologetic.

“So, here you go – the answer is both. And I’m not too fussy about species, either. But, if forced to state a preference, my preference is human women.”

“I knew it!” Raffi declared, triumphantly. “I knew you were bi.”

“Fluid is a better description.”

“So, why do you hide it?”

“I don’t, never have. My parents knew and it didn’t take long for my classmates to figure it out. I just don’t go around shouting it from the rooftops, Raff.”

“So, why wouldn’t you tell me when I asked before?”

“Because I didn’t want to talk about myself, and I didn’t know you that well.”

“We’d been travelling together for a year! A year, Rios!” Raffi was outraged. “What the hell! You really didn’t trust me?”

“Not you,” he tried to explain, “Me. I used to be too trusting, I didn’t question people’s motivations. I placed my faith in the wrong person, the wrong people, and a lot of people got hurt. People died. It’s not that I don’t trust _anyone_ , but I definitely don’t trust myself. It’s safer to not have faith in anyone, than to have faith in the wrong person.”

“So, you didn’t trust me enough, then.”

“I trust you _now_.” he answered evenly.

Raffi wasn’t entirely convinced. “Prove it.” she challenged. 

“What? How?”

“Tonight, I’m making it my personal mission to get you laid.” she declared.

“No.” Cris stated firmly. “I’m serious, Raffi. I’m not interested.”

“Because of what happened, what four, five years ago? You haven’t slept with _anyone_ since then? Damn, Cris, that’s a really long time. You need to get passed it. You need to have some _fun_.”

“I said no, Raff.”

“What do you think’s going to happen?”

“I think,” he struggled to find the words, “I think I find it very difficult not to fall in love with the people I sleep with, and that compromises my judgement. I have no desire to fall in love again. Zero. Less than zero. Negative. End of story.”

“So, you deny yourself sex.”

“Yes.”

Raffi shook her head. “That’s so fucked up, Cris. Jeeezus, I thought I was a walking disaster, with my failed marriage and dislike of 95% of sentient beings, but at least I can separate lust and love. Understand the difference between the physical and emotional.” Rios said nothing. There was really nothing he _could_ say. She was right.

“Okay, fine. No sex for you tonight. Got it.”

Raffi hauled herself up off the barstool. “Come dance with me, then.”

* * *

The second night on Eutopos, Raffi was better prepared. She sussed out the patrons of the bar, noting everyone Rios glanced at for more than a second, and who looked at him, and finally settled on a stunning Bajoran woman as the perfect candidate. Slim and lithe, with long hair streaked with so many colours it looked like flames. She was with a group of humanoid friends of several races, but kept stealing glances at Cris. In Raffi’s experience, the Bajorans were a spiritual people, and empathetic. This one looked and acted nothing most of the Bajorans she’d previously met, but maybe she’d be open to helping someone heal?

She told Rios she needed to go to the ladies room, and then doubled back in the Bajoran’s direction.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Raffi and Rios were on the dancefloor, Raffi moving them closer to the Bajoran and her friends, and the drugs she’d slipped into Rios’s drink seemed to be working. Yes, it was a breach of trust, and of dubious morality, but she did it with the best of intentions, reasoning that he needed a push.

* * *

Rios was in an unusually good mood. He liked this planet, it felt… benign, harmless. It’s polyglot mix of inhabitants were nice to each other. He liked this bar, he liked the music. It had a familiar, almost Latin beat, like a Bachata but also not.

He was feeling very relaxed, maybe even a little turned on by the whole vibe, by the Bajoran woman with the extraordinary hair. The way she moved, the way she smiled. Raffi started dancing with one of her companions, an Edo man, judging by the symbol around his neck. A strapping blond with tattoos of vines down his muscular arms, that seemed to move, as if in a breeze, when he flexed. Come to think of it, he was hot too. Maybe he should get a tattoo?

The woman was dancing next to him now.

He liked the way her hair flowed around her, as though it had a life of its own. He liked the way she smiled up at him. She held out her hands, an invitation, and he started dancing with her. She moved gracefully as he twisted her this way and that, out, back. She laughed as he pulled her closer. He liked the feel of her pressed against him. Liked the way she smelled.

A little voice in his head said, _This isn’t you, Cris. You don’t want to go there, remember? It’s too risky_. She’s a Bajoran, he answered back. How dangerous can she be? _That’s the point, isn’t it? You don’t know_. Shut up, you’re ruining this. _She drugged you. Raffi drugged you._ She wouldn’t. _She did. You know she did_.

 _Mierda_. She probably had, he realised.

But dammit, he was feeling good, relaxed, blissed out even, and incredibly turned on. This woman ( _Sayira_ , she offered when he asked for her name) was feeling very very good too.

“My friend over there,” he gestured at Raffi, “did she offer you a drink?”.

“No,” Sayira replied, honestly. “Never met her before.” she added for good measure, lying.

Okay then, thought Cris, telling the voice in his head to shut up and stop getting in the way.

The way Sayira was moving now was making him light-headed, among other things. She looked up at him through those long strands of flaming hair, and he felt his reservations dissolve. Then they were kissing, and her hands were inside his shirt and his tangled in her incredible hair, dragging her closer, and when she asked if he wanted to get out here, he did. He really, really did.

* * *

Raffi didn’t see him again for three days, not until a few hours before the cargo was due to be ready. It wasn’t, but that was Eutopos all over. Somehow it worked, but she wasn’t quite sure how.

Rios showed up in the same clothes he’d been wearing in the bar, trying to act like nothing had happened, but with wet hair, and a mermaid tattooed on his left arm. A mermaid with long flowing hair, she couldn’t help noticing.

Raffi grinned. “Looks like someone had a good time.” she teased.

Rios said nothing, struggling to keep the smile off his face, wanting to make his point first.

Raffi thought she’d gotten away with it.

But, suddenly he was right up in her face and glaring at her, “Did you drug her?” he demanded.

“No. I swear,” she stammered, “she was just into you.”

“Did you drug _me_ , Raffi?”

Shit. There it was. “Cris…”

“Don’t lie to me.” he warned, genuine anger on his face.

“Okay, yes, I…”

“And don’t try and tell me you’re sorry. Because you’re not.”

Raffi didn't know what to say. 

His expression softened. “And I’m not either. You were right. I _did_ need that. But don’t _ever_ do it again. I mean it, Raff. I want to make my own decisions, even if they’re shitty ones, not have them made for me.”

Raffi nodded. He was taking it pretty well, she thought.

“This wasn’t a shitty one, though, right? You had a good time?”

Cris tossed his jacket over the pilot’s seat and allowed himself to smile.

“Yeah. I did. I had a _really_ good time. You? Have fun with Rekhti?”

Raffi looked confused.

“The Edo guy?” he prompted. “Blond, muscular, vines up and down his arms?”

Oh, yeah. She hadn’t asked his name. “Yeah!”

“You know they’re a couple, right?”

“Who?”

“Sayira and Rekhti. They have an… unconventional relationship.”

“What? Really? We split up a couple?” Raffi looked impressed.

“You did. _I_ didn’t.”

The confusion on her face was beyond satisfying. 

“Wait, are you saying that…?”

“I’m not saying anything.” he smirked. “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.”

“Shit! No way! No! We slept with the same guy?” Raffi screwed up her face in disgust and shivered. “Urgh!”

Rios didn’t correct her. In fact, he hadn’t slept with Rekhti, well, he’d _slept_ in his bed – their bed – but not had sex with him. The three of them had certainly fooled around, but mostly Rekhti had left Rios and Sayira alone to enjoy themselves. Not only that, but Rekhti had been obliging enough to take Rios to the tattoo parlour and sit with him through the quite considerable discomfort, while his girlfriend posed for the tattoo artist, trying to capture her hair in ink. In retrospect, it would have been a lot less painful to have settled for a mermaid that didn’t have Sayira’s hair - but a lot less fun, too.

Sayira and Rekhti’s one rule was not to have intercourse with the same person. They could invite people into their home, into their relationship, in any way they liked but that. It was just too complicated.

But, Raffi didn’t need to know that. She deserved a little payback for drugging him.

* * *

The shipment was delayed a couple more days, and neither of them were unhappy about it, although Cris was keen to get back out into space before his emotions could get too involved and complicate things.

Raffi seemed in no hurry to leave though, and Rios was not particularly surprised when she asked to stay behind. He could make the next delivery on his own, she reasoned, and the shipment after that wasn’t too far away. He could pick her up in six weeks or so.

So, for the first time in more than three years, Raffi and Rios parted ways.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's all, for now folks! I may add snippets of conversations and interactions they have off-screen (I have feels!) but this is the backstory I wanted to write that brings Raffi and Rios's friendship up to the start of Star Trek: Picard. 
> 
> Time-line wise, I see them as having first met 8 or 9 years after Picard resigns and Raffi loses her commission. My headcanon is that she's transferred into a less challenging role, but being unable to accept what happened. Slowly spiralling into anger and addiction, losing her grip on things. It is quite some time before her marriage finally breaks down when her husband finds her taking drugs in the house, after being absent for several days, and kicks her out. She's been kicking around aimlessly for a year or more, when she meets Rios. 
> 
> This ties in with what he says about having spent ten years unable to get over the events on the ibn Majid. He is still struggling to process it when they meet, maybe a year or so after that event. They spend about four years travelling together, before Raffi returns to Earth, about six years before the start of Star Trek: Picard.

It might have been the end of their friendship, but, of course, it wasn’t.

They’d been through too much together. They were simpatico. Six weeks later, and Raffi was back on the ship.

But, things did change.

Raffi was getting restless. She wanted to feel the earth beneath her feet again, the sun on her skin. They’d made enough contacts over the years that Rios didn’t really need her to find work for them. She spent less and less time on _La Sirena_ , and when they were next in the vicinity of Earth, decided to call it quits.

Rios had seen it coming a long way off, so he wasn’t surprised. Sad, yes, disappointed, definitely, but they’d seen each other through the worst of it and were both out the other side now. When she wasn’t on board he’d turn back to his philosophy and poetry. He'd even discovered a liking for Klingon opera and set about teaching himself the language.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked.

“I dunno.” she answered, honestly, “I just need to stop running. Find a little place to call home.”

“There’s always a home for you here, Raffi, you know that, right? Even if I don’t hear from you for 20 years, you need me and I’ll come running. I mean it.”

“I know, and I love you _hermano_. But, there are things I need to know.”

“About what went wrong with the Romulan recovery effort?”

“Yeah.”

“You can do that research from here.”

“I have. But I need answers I can’t get from computers and data. I need to speak to people, face-to-face.”

“Will they talk to you?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, but I have to try.”

Rios nodded. “I’m gonna miss you, Raff.”

“No, no, don’t you go getting all emotional on me. This isn’t a goodbye. We’ll talk all the time. Promise.”

* * *

And they did. They spoke regularly.

Every now and then Raffi would put some business Cris’s way. No matter how big or small the job, he’d always take it and she always got her 50%.

Flying cargo under the Federation radar wasn’t the most lucrative business, and a great deal of the profit was lost in the black market conversion from latinum to Federation credits, which was the only valid currency on Earth, but it was enough to keep the wolves from the door, and keep her just high enough to do what she felt she had to do without pushing her over the edge. She acquired a trailer and set up home at Vasquez Rocks, private, isolated, but not completely cut off from the world - or the stars. 

The deeper she dug, the surer she was of a conspiracy. One that undoubtedly involved both the Federation and the Romulan secret police. A conspiracy in which they’d abandoned their own, left them to die. She needed answers.

But, the doors wouldn’t open for Former Lieutenant Commander Rafaella Musiker. The more people she approached, the more quickly the next door was slammed in her face. Word had clearly got around. Her anger and resentment of Starfleet grew. She tried reaching out to Picard, but he didn't respond. Not that she really thought he would. She couldn’t forgive him for turning his back on everything she’d thought they stood for, on how easily he’d walked away. At times, the anger threatened to overwhelm her.

If he hadn’t heard from Raffi in a few weeks, Rios would check in, and when he sensed her paranoia was getting the better of her, would rearrange his commitments and stop by for a visit.

When she wasn’t too lost in her conspiracies, she tried to do the same for him. When he seemed to be retreating too much back into his broody existential loner routine, she’d get in touch with her contacts on Eutopos and see if there wasn’t some emergency cargo that need to be shipped to or from there.

Had they really both slept with Rehkti? The thought still disturbed her, it felt… incestuous, but Eutopos was the one place she could be sure Rios would let his guard down for a few days.

As did Sayira and Rekhti, eventually, relaxing their usual rule. They both desired him and enjoyed his company and Cris was never going to stick around long enough to be a threat to their relationship. Besides, after long periods on his own, he had more than enough desire of his own to go around. The arrangement made it easier for him too, not to get too emotionally attached to either one of them.

Rios had enough latinum by then to upgrade the holos. He told himself it was just the bug in the code that stopped him, but it also felt like a betrayal of his friendship with Raffi. They kept him honest, not that he’d admit that to them under threat of torture, and he didn’t want to wipe the specific knowledge of his needs they’d built up over time.

He still hated that fucking hospitality hologram though. It reminded him too much of his past tendency to trust everyone blindly, to place greater weight on everyone else’s needs than his own feelings or judgement. He wished he knew how to turn the _cabrón_ off. But coding had never been among his skill set. It wasn’t that it bored him, exactly, it just held no interest. The intricate detail of coding, the patience of trying to plan dozens of moves ahead? It had never been his strength.

His skill had always been in the quickness of his reflexes, his ability to respond instinctively and appropriately to any given situation. That’s what had made him an exceptional pilot and a great First Officer. He could read a room, a developing situation or crisis and respond without having to analyse it, knowing immediately what to do. At least until he started to question his judgement and second-guess himself after the tragedy on the _ibn Majid_. 

So, apart from his infrequent visits to Eutopos and his friendship with Raffi, he retreated back into himself and avoided getting close to anyone.

But, however much Cristóbal Ríos wanted to see himself as Emmet, a moody loner who didn't give a damn about others and needed no-one but his own company, at heart, he was still a man who loved people. Just, not always the right ones.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I wasn't quite finished after all. There was one more wound to be explored.

**Takes place during S01E03, starting in the moments before Picard arrives on _La Sirena_**

Over the years, Rios had come up with all kinds of creative ways to stay fit on _La Sirena_. He didn’t have enough holos for 5 aside soccer, although the ENH was always game for a kick about, even if it wasn’t in his programming and he sucked. One time he got so desperate for a bit of competition he invited the EHH to join in. Given that it _was_ part of his programming, he turned out to be quite good, which only made Rios loathe him even more.

More often than not, Emmet was his go-to fitness buddy. He always kept Rios on his toes and gave him a good workout. The holo’s tactical and security programming meant he was skilled in all kinds of combat, so Cris had been learning a number of different fighting styles. Currently they were sparring with the double-ended spears once used by the Tekret Militia. Wooden shafts and Tritanium tips. Old school.

A comms window flickered open in front of him, and Raffi’s face appeared. He’d only just returned to _La Sirena_ after catching up with her yesterday, and would have been on his way already if the ENH hadn’t been trying to figure out some kind of problem with the navigation sensors.

“Hey!” he yelled, ducking as Emmet thrust at him. “Did I leave something at your place?”

“What the hell are you doing?” Raffi asked.

“Training for the Tekret Militia.” he shouted, not taking his eyes off Emmet, deftly parrying the latter’s blow.

“Why?... Oh, nevermind. Put some damned clothes on.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sending a client your way. He’ll be there any moment. Your EHH said you were ready.”

Oh, did he now? Funny he didn’t mention that. Maybe it had something to do with Rios deactivating the bugger twice that day.

“What’s the job?” he lunged sideways, trying to catch Emmet off guard, but he leapt out of the way.

“I’m gonna let him explain that.”

“Where to?” dodging another thrust from Emmet.

“He doesn’t know, yet. I’m working on it.”

He finally managed to get a decent thrust in, but Emmet twisted and parried it efficiently.

“Who? Who’s the client?”

Raffi hesitated, “Picard.”

Stunned, Rios spun to face her, dropping his spear in surprise. “Wha…?”

“ _Que chucha?!_ he swore, as Emmet failed to pull out of his lunge in time and the tip of his spear went deep into Rios’s shoulder, knocking him to his knees with the sheer force of it.

“ _Lo siento, lo siento_.” Emmet apologised, grimacing. He yanked on the spear, trying to pull it out and only succeeding in breaking off the shaft, leaving the tip embedded in the Captain’s shoulder.

“What is the nature of your… oh!” exclaimed the EMH, with a look of horror.

“Cris? What the…?” cried Raffi.

Rios unleashed a torrent of furious curses in Spanish, clearly in a lot of pain. “I’ll call you back,” he gritted out, “did you really say Picard?”

“Yes. For fuck’s sake, Emmet!” she glared at the ETSH. “And you,” she said looking at the EMH, “sort him out. Don’t you dare de-activ…” but Rios was in too much pain to continue the conversation and had closed the comms.

Fuck, it hurt. “ _Hijo de puta!”_ he growled at Emmet, who recognised his cue to disappear.

“Get the medical kit.” Rios snapped.

“Yes, sir.” The EMH took off without delay.

 _Puta la wea!_ The pain was so intense he felt like he was about to pass out. He staggered to his feet and moved towards the pilot’s chair, trying to clear his head.

Picard. Did he really hear that right? Raffi was sending him Picard? There wasn’t a Starfleet officer alive that hadn’t dreamt of meeting Admiral Picard. Or dead, he thought grimly.

From what he knew from Raffi, though, perhaps their admiration was misplaced.

Still, it might have been nice to have been fully dressed.

He’d get the EMH to pull the blade out and pull some clothes on. They could use the dermal regenerator later, and if it scarred, well, it was only another one. He wasn’t sure what was pissing him off more, the pain in his shoulder, or the thought of meeting Admiral Picard in this state.

He’d barely made it into his chair when Picard and the EMH arrived.

 _Mierda_. _Mierda_. _Mierda_. _Concha la wea!_

Hold it together, Rios, play it cool.

* * *

Picard’s visit left him shaken. He thought he’d just about got his defences up in time, but the Admiral had seen through them almost immediately. He liked him, but he was uneasy about the mission. He tried to settle himself by reading, but his shoulder still hurt like hell, and then the damned ENH got in his head. “On the side of the angels.” _Por la mierda!_ He deactivated it and called up the EMH to fix up his shoulder while he called Raffi.

“Hey.”

“Hey you. I was getting worried.” she noted with satisfaction that the EMH was tending to his shoulder. “D’you see him?”

“Yup.”

“That’s it?”

Rios made an indeterminate gesture. “I dunno, Raffi. Something feels off. Why’d you send him my way, anyway? You hoping I can drag something out of him about your big conspiracy?”

“No. Maybe. Where else am I gonna send him? You think I’d trust anyone else? What did he offer?”

“Enough to consider it. If I was sure about what ‘it’ is. You buying this stuff about the synth and her twin?”

“You’re not?”

“I don’t know Raffi. I don’t know him. You do. That’s why I’m asking.” The EMH finished healing his shoulder, and Rios gave him the briefest of nods, about as high a praise as the holo could hope for, before Rios deactivated it.

“Yeah, I do. To show up after all these years… of nothing. It means something. It’s all connected. I don’t know how, but it is.”

“And this twin – you think she’s still alive?”

“I dunno. If the Tal Shiar are after her, maybe not.”

“You coming with us?”

“No.” Raffi shook her head emphatically. “Hell no. Me and JL? We’re through.”

Rios looked at her shrewdly. For all that she claimed to be through with Picard, she also seemed concerned for his safety. “You think I should take the job?” he pressed.

“Yeah. If he pays enough.”

“But you’re definitely not coming?”

“Nope.”

“Two strips of latinum says you change your mind.”

“Two strips of latinum on there being a twin, but her being dead before Picard can find her.”

“Deal.”

****

When Raffi asked to be beamed up, he wasn’t surprised. “Pay up!” he grinned.

“I’m not coming.”

“Sure, you aren’t.”

“I mean it. I just… wanna hitch a ride to where we’re going.”

“Any idea where that is?”

“Freecloud. And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He didn’t press it.

Just as he’d never fully explained what happened on the _ibn Majid_ , he knew Raffi still had a few things that haunted her, beyond what happened with the Federation and the Romulans. He’d done a little research and had his suspicions, but he said nothing. If she wanted to talk about it, she’d do so in her own time.

“It’s his mission, though,” he reminded her, “his say for the duration. You coming as my crew, or gonna ask him if you can hitch a ride?”

Raffi hadn’t though about that. “What would you do if he said no?”

“You think he will?”

“No. You’d still take me, though, right?”

“Only if you take over from the Holo Housekeeper and make everyone’s beds and sweep the floors.” he joked.

“Damn, I forgot you even had one of those.”

“Well, that’s rather the point, isn’t it? Programmed to operate in the background and never be seen. I’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of it for years, but it’s never more than flicker in the corner of my eye.”

“Couldn’t you just summon it?”

“Where’s the fun in that? What accent did you give it, by the way?”

Raffi screwed up her nose, trying to think back that far. “French, I think.”

“Shame it never hangs around then. Picard might like it.”


End file.
